Fate
by LahDiDah
Summary: Hermione Granger realizes that the life of someone she doesn't even care about is in peril. Will the help she provides spark a new love, or is she building a trap, putting her own life in danger? DM/HG. Post OotP.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. I only own the plot.**

**A/N: This is my first ever fic. Please don't be too harsh! I know the Draco/Hermione shipper has been quite overdone, but here's my shot at it. :)**

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His white-blond hair was plastered to his head. Sweat dripped from every inch of his exposed skin. His eyes, blood-shot red from the pain he had just experienced, kept a firm gaze on the cold floor, not daring to look up.

"Are you afraid of me, Draco?" said a high-pitched voiced, filled with an evil resonance in every chord it struck.

"Only you, My Lord," Draco choked, realizing it even hurt to speak.

"Look at me, boy," the voice said, in a harsher manner if it were possible.

Draco slowly raised his head and stared at the man in front of him.

There stood Voldemort, in a hooded robed darker than the deepest corners of hell. His red eyes shone through the hood like the eyes of Satan himself. His long, spidery fingers protruded through the sleeves looking like death; clammy, pale, and cold.

"You _dare_ to look me in the eye!?" he screeched.

"My Lord, I…" Draco started, returning his eyes back to the floor.

"_Crucio,_" Voldemort whispered. The lack of enthusiasm for performing such a curse was one of his many worshipped traits. The way he could stand there through torture and death without even an ounce of remorse on his face could not be boasted by even the most skilled Death Eaters. He need not even speak the curse, but simply could point his wand and torment whomever he pleased. Just his presence alone could kill. Yet, he chose to speak aloud every Unforgivable Curse…distinctly. He wanted his victim to know _exactly_ who was going to kill them. Who _really_ was the most powerful being of all time. Who they should have joined forces with ages ago.

The familiar pain rushed through Draco's body. Every inch of him was searing in pain. He clamped his mouth shut, not letting even a sound escape his lips. He would not let Voldemort think that he was weak. That he could not perform the task he was about to receive. That he was not fit to become a Death Eater. That he was no different from his father.

After an agonizing minute which felt as an eternity, the pain stopped. Every inch of his body throbbed, worse than before. A pool of sweat formed on the ground beneath his face.

"You are stronger than I had imagined, Draco," Voldemort said softly. "I will not regret having put you in charge with what is needed to be done, will I?"

"No, My Lord, you may have the utmost faith in my ability," Draco said, doing his best not to stutter.

"That's what your father always said." he spat, his voice rising once again.

"My father was a corrupt man," Draco said through gritted teeth. "He was a disgrace to call himself your dedicated servant. I am nothing like him."

"Are you implying that I did not choose my followers wisely, boy? That I made a…_mistake_?"

"No, My Lord," Draco sputtered, hoping he had not dug a larger hole for himself, "I…I…"

"I quite understand," Voldemort said curtly, clearly not intending to curse Draco again. "I must admit, I have made a few mistakes in my selection of faithful followers. But _one_ thing is for sure…I do not plan on making them again. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, My Lord," Draco whispered.

"If you fail this task, I will not spare you. I may have spared your father more times than I should have, but I will _not_ _spare you_," he repeated.

"I would commit death upon myself before I betray you…"

"Enough," Voldemort said quietly. "I have grown accustomed to empty promises from my most _loyal_ servants. Actions speak louder than words, Draco."

"I understand, My Lord."

"Now, stand up like a man while I give you your instructions."

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Narcissa Malfoy shed a small tear onto the forehead of her sleeping son. She knew this would happen soon enough. Voldemort had told her husband years ago that Draco was a promising prospect for the Death Eaters of the new generation. Lucius had been so proud that his son would follow in his footsteps. It was almost as if he were eager to die, and have his son perish the same way.

She could not understand him at all. And although Draco was sleeping peacefully right in front of her, she knew what he was dreaming of. He was imagining the glorious life of a Death Eater. The joy of causing fear from others. The thrill of living the secret life.

Draco's eyes fluttered open. He looked at his crying mother, who was hastily wiping her eyes lest her son see her crying.

"Mum," Draco whispered, "what happened now?"

"Oh, it's nothing, dear," she said, with a watery smile.

"You know I have to go through with this. If I ever want to become His most loyal, I have to get that girl to…"

"Shh, Draco," Narcissa whispered, "I know exactly what you have to do with the mudblood, and I can honestly say that I care less about her. I'm worried about you, dear. This was your first encounter with Him, and you've already blacked out from the pain he exerted on you…"

"Are you calling me weak, Mother," Draco asked, narrowing his cold gray eyes, "Because, for your kind information, I did not make one sound during…"

"I know, honey. I know you're brave. I just wish you wouldn't use your talents with Him. Your father could have been a great man as well. But look where he ended up."

"I am nothing like Lucius, mother."

"Draco, he's your father. You shouldn't…"

"I don't care who he is," Draco spat. "He never had the potential to become a great man, mother, and you know it. He was disloyal and foolish. He got what he deserved. I, on the other hand, know I can put my life on the line for…"

"But, why?" she said, letting the tears flow freely this time. "Why would you die for Him when you know very well that He would kill you in an instant…without repentance!?"

"If He kills me, then I deserve to die. But He will respect His most loyal…" Draco's eyes glazed over with happiness.

Narcissa stared at Draco for a good minute. There was no way in making him see any different. She knew this was the only time to tell him.

"Draco," she whispered, "Can you promise me one thing?"

"Depends, mother."

"Do you remember the cottage in Switzerland your father and I used to take you to when you were younger?"

"Yes, I can recall…"

"Good. Now if you ever get scared, dear, go there. You'll be safe. Nobody can harm you there."

"And how is that possible. You don't think He will find me eventually?"

"I have been putting numerous spells and enchantments on that cottage for the past month, dear. There is no way He can find you immediately," she whispered, "Once you get there, I will be informed, and I will understand everything. We'll run, honey, together. You'll be safe, I swear to you."

"Okay, mum," Draco said, sounding skeptical, "But don't plan on me backing down. I think you've just been wasting your time, but to make you happy, I'll promise."

"Thank you," Narcissa sighed, closing her eyes and letting the last of her tears flow. "But if you really wish this to be your fate, then I will not stop you. I am behind you every step of the way."

"I know, mum," Draco said, taking her hand in his and giving it a tight squeeze, "I know."

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**A/N: How do you like it? PLEASE REVIEW! Thank you! 3**


	2. An Empty Threat

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. I only own the plot.**

**A/N: I really hope nobody hates me because my chapters are so short, but I promise, I'll be updating very frequently! **

"Bye, mummy!" Hermione said, kissing her mother on the cheek.

"Goodbye, dear," her mother said softly, turning away too hide her glistening eyes.

"Muuum! Don't cry now! You're going to get me all emotional," she said, her smile faltering.

"Right, honey," her father chuckled, "Don't be a worry wart. You should be proud our little Hermit Crab. It's her last year at that school. And she's, what was it again, honey? Oh yes, Head Girl. She's all grown up now. She can take care of herself and she'll be home before you know it."

"That's right, mum," Hermione said, letting out a small sigh of relief as her mother's face brightened, "Plus, I'll be home for Easter holidays. I did promise you, remember?"

"You'd better be! I almost had a heart attack when you said you weren't coming home last time!"

"Mum, I already explained to you the situation. You know I had to help my friends in the war. I didn't have much of a choice. And I still don't, really."

"Oh yes, this is settling my heart quite a bit now," her mother choked, sarcastically, "And why can't you come for the winter holidays?"

"I'll be studying way too hard, mum. My NEWTS are coming up. I can't afford to…"

"I know, honey. I'm just worried about you. And I'll miss you loads."

"And I'm always thinking about you and dad, trust me. Look, mum…oh wait," Hermione cut off, "There's Harry and Ron. I've got to go. We've got to get a good compartment before…"

"Hermione!" Harry yelled over the roar of the train's starting engines, "Don't rush! We'll find a compartment."

"Thanks!" Hermione yelled back, not fully trusting Harry and especially Ron in finding a compartment. They always were too busy chatting up a storm between them and never fully concentrated on the task at hand. That's where Hermione always came in. To keep those two in check.

"Okay, well that gives me a few more seconds with you both tops," Hermione giggled.

"Bye, Hermit," grinned her father, kissing her on the forehead.

"Dad! I've told you for years now not to call me that in public," she muttered sheepishly, her eyes scanning the student crowd, "But goodbye. I'll miss you terribly."

Eyes prickling, she turned to her mum and hugged her with all her might.

"Bye, dear, I love you," her mother sobbed, "One last thought; you've packed everything?"

"Yes, mum," Hermione replied, exasperated.

"You sure," her mother fussed, "Even that electrically heated blanket I bought for you?"

"Mum, I'm a witch. I have a wand. I can make things catch fire if I so pleased."

"Well, I just thought in case that Voldy-Man, whoever he is, happened to take your powers away somehow, or whatever else he could do…"

Hermione laughed at her mother's innocence of the wizarding world. "Mum, if he took away my wand, the last thing I'd worry about is if I'm warm enough or if I'd catch a cold."

"I know…"

"But I packed it anyway," Hermione said, watching her mother's expression lighten once again.

Suddenly, the train started to slowly move behind her. Her dad quickly helped her push her remaining baggage through the open door. She jumped on just in time before the train was gaining a faster speed.

She watched her parents get smaller and smaller on the platform. Her dad stood there, hands in his jeans' pockets (which, by the way, attracted quite a stare from some of the wizarding families around), eyes full of pride, and a wide smile upon his face. Her mother, on the other hand, was jumping up and down, flailing her hands in the air so her daughter would be able to still notice her for a further distance. Soon, the train turned a bend, and the platform was out of sight.

She wiped a tear that hand somehow made its way down to her chin with the back of her hand. Although she was going to miss her parents terribly, she knew Hogwarts was going to be great this year. It was, after all, her final year, and although the NEWTS were impending on the 7th years, it was still going to be amazing. She smiled to herself and turned around.

WHAP

Hermione blinked the stars out of her eyes and kneading her sore temple.

"Oh, did I hurt you, mudblood?" an icy voice drawled in the passageway, "But it wasn't really my fault, you see. My broomstick just doesn't like you, I guess."

"Malfoy," she spat, still massaging the side of her head. There was a bump forming; she could feel it. "Don't you have anything better to do? Besides slamming your broomstick into other people?"

"Well well," Draco sneered, "Look whose mind is just as dirty as her blood. I would have never guessed. And for your information, I would never slam my…broomstick into a mud—"

"Shut it, you wanker," Hermione snapped, not letting the embarrassment show on her face. "You know precisely what I meant. Now get out of my way while I look for my friends."

"Potty and Weasel? You must prefer them slamming their broomsticks into—"

"MOVE!" Hermione yelled, doing her best not to curse him. It wouldn't put a good start to her Head Girl duties after all.

"Hm, well see, now I'm weighing my options," Draco said, in mock speculation, "There's an open door behind you and if I push you, nobody would know, and I would never have to suffer from the annoyance you cause me for another day."

Hermione suddenly became very aware that she was standing in front of Draco Malfoy, a Death Eater's son, while her back was facing towards an open entrance to a moving train.

"However," he continued, "that would mean I'd have to touch you and get your filth all over my hands. Maybe I should just push you with my broomstick—"

Hermione made a hasty decision and quickly pushed passed him, grabbing her trunks on the way. She felt a hand lock around her upper arm in a painful grip.

"Malfoy, grow up," she said turning around and staring him straight in his icy eyes, more confident than she actually was, "You wouldn't have had the balls to do it anyway."

"I had not intended to, mudblood," his voice almost above a whisper, "I would just hate to see you die such a…quick death."

Her eyes narrowed. She yanked her arm out of his grip. "Leave me alone, you scumbag."

"Gladly," he muttered, staring at his hand, "I've got to go douse this hand in boiling hot water. Hopefully it gets rid of the filth. Maybe I should just cut it off…"

"If that's the case, I'd be more than happy to help," Hermione whispered silently, walking off to find Harry and Ron.

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**A/N: PLEASE review, lovelys!**


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